Falling Sand
by Silatyr
Summary: ...I fall Like the sands of time Like some broken rhyme At feet no longer there..." Temari angst with quite a bit about Kankuro as well. Temari muses about her situation and her family (or lack thereof). Mind the double angst rating, please.


A/N: I promised myself that I would write at least 2,000 words for this one, and I did- 2,002 words to be exact! Yay!  
  
Temari-centric, from her POV. It also focuses on Kankuro a good bit (more than I expected it to, for sure). This was inspired by a stanza from a Yohko Kanno song as you will see below. And without further ado- the fic!  
  
"...I fall,  
Like the sands of time,  
Like some broken rhyme,  
At feet no longer there...  
  
Nobody is here to catch me if I fall.  
  
That was my first thought when I began to block, easily knocking aside the bits of steel thrown by my current opponent. The empty dirt floor of the arena loomed wide before me as she retreated once again, futilely praying for a chance to regroup. I no longer remember her name, and I suppose it doesn't matter in the end. But despite her obvious weaknesses, I should have been more focused on the match.  
  
I do not normally allow myself to become distracted by petty thoughts. They are there for only a moment and should be brushed aside if they have nothing to do with the goal. After all, anything that is not directly connected to the current goal will only hinder it, slowing down the rate of success by sucking away concentration when it may most be needed. But for a reason entirely unknown to me, this one simple thought made it through my metal blocks while I dueled, striking just as the frame of my fan hit the ground.  
  
It should not have wormed its way through the block; that much was immediately clear. I shoved it aside with all my willpower, placing more force behind the swinging of my deadly fan than was really necessary. But it would not leave. The stray thought, that idle wisp of a "what if?" that had somehow invaded my mind and my sanity, refused to be ignored. I desperately needed it to go- simple though this match truly was and powerless as my opponent might be when placed beside me, there was never room for mistakes. But it would seem that my control had already conceded defeat and retreated to places unknown.  
  
I bluffed as well as I could. I could not attack just then, not when I was unfocused and dazed; my blows would not have the desired effect, and I would subsequently expend too much energy in the attempts to make up for a momentary failing. So instead, I retreated behind the walls that were left to me: those of false pride and conceit. I taunted my opponent, seeming to revel in her gradual knowledge that she could not win this match. My bluffs were those of someone confident of their final success, although not overly confident, much as those thrown out by my brother when he decided to take down that Naruto's ego a level or two.  
  
Ah yes... Kankuro, the brother who is not my brother and the monster who is, for once, not of my own creation. I have learned a few things from him over the past year, as much as I may deny it should he ever ask. He has taught me arts not so different from the ninja arts: among others, the art of lying, and the art of hiding in plain sight. They go hand in hand, one the chakra that gives possibility to the attack of the other. He hides, and now so do I, by not hiding at all. Instead, we make sure that only the aspect of our personality that does not scare us is what we allow out. Are we mere killers? Have we no consciences? If you so wish. We need only show one action or word that might back this up, and immediately, it is accepted as the full extent of our selves. Allowing others to see only what they wish to find in you prevents any mess or unnecessary attachments, and makes it easier to avoid facing up to your own problems. After all- if it is not there, there is nothing that must be dealt with, no?  
  
And so the art of my bluffing was also learned from Kankuro, indirect though it may have been- an extension of the truth behind lying that his lifelong lie has finally taught me. But I should have been careful, much more careful. I should have known... I should have realizing that by bearing the same mask underneath his painted face and black-swathed doom-doll, he would easily see through my own copied mask.  
  
No one saw the surprise; that is the one thing that I am still sure of. His other masks are too tightly in place to allow such a slip-up, so unlike my crumbling barriers. But I can sense it. I know that he recognized my boasting before my enemy for what it really was, and I doubt that he had expected such an error from someone so perfect as I.  
  
I am rambling now, I am sure... but I am perfect. Not in the way that you may define perfection, no. I do not mean it as a boast as well- I have had more than my share of boasts and bluffs today, and I do not wish to play any more games with words. I mean what I mean when I say perfection, because to me, I have mastered that perfection- or at least, I had until today. I was always strong on the team, never once loosing track of our objective for more paltry matters. I may never be seen as particularly talented or strong when beside my skilled brothers, but I can and continually have held my own place without stumbling. Again... until today. Today, I have stumbled.  
  
And I honestly do not know what scares me more: the fact that I have made an error, or the fact that I still cannot understand why the error was made.  
  
I run the thought over and over in my head. I can vaguely make out the sound of someone screaming, and somewhere in my subconscious I note that I have won the match while I pondered, acting on reflex instead of on thought. The scream is a good sign- I have not killed her, or not yet at least, but I have made it clear that I shall not cave... at least not where anyone may see. I am yet again splattered with blood that is not my own.  
  
Such a short though, really. I wipe a splatter of bloody freckles from my cheeks as I muse. Just a note of sorts. A rather morbid noting of the truth. Is it the truth? Well... of course. Gaara and Kankuro will always catch me if I fall during a mission, and thoughts have no connection to missions; therefore, nobody would catch me if I fell- if I myself fell, instead of falling as a member of the team. Simple logic, and indisputable. I have just never considered it so directly before.  
  
Does it really matter?  
  
I suppose it must. It has to do with my life, after all, does it not? No, no, wait- I always do forget when I am this tired. It is always the goal that is the priority. Or is it the other way around- the priority is always the goal? Is there any difference?  
  
My head spins, and I perch on a bench near the now clear arena, wooden slats digging into my shoulder blades. Do I want someone to be there when I fall?  
  
No. I dismiss it. This topic is irrelevant. I will not fall. Stumbling does not mean that I will fall; I have obviously picked myself up from this ridiculous little tumble without any problem. Breath, just breath...  
  
What would happen if a ninja were to fall? Would they die? No no no, I have the Sand-Nins of my village supporting me, the ninja would not die. I would not... die...  
  
...would I?  
  
Do I really have any sort of safety net waiting below for the time in the future when I may- no, will- stumble and not be able to right myself? Do I honestly have a second chance if I ever slip again?  
  
All of the others have someone to catch them, right? Even though that Sasuke kid hates the world and hates himself for his hatred of the world, I know that he would go to any lengths necessary to protect the other members of his team should they ever need his help. Even the other teams from their village would assist each other, childish though they may act for the majority of the time. Why are we always so different? Why must we always be divided by the same oddities that divide us from the rest of the world?  
  
Any outsiders might believe that our freakiness drove us closer; that is, after all, as it ought to have been. Where did we go wrong- so, so wrong? Why? Should not our familial relationship have been strong as well? I can see no family in our broken and separated team as we drift further apart year by agonizing year. Should we not be laughing, joking, and teasing one another as any normal children would do? I dare not even attempt to tread that path now. One half-suppressed laugh and both of you would have your chakras at the ready, prepared to kill me least I be plotting some sort of brutal way to murder you two and gain control of the Sand-nins. An attempt at a joke would likely be met by blank stares and glazed eyes, while the gentlest tease would have me ripped to pieces almost instantaneously. Even you two, as twisted as you are in your separate ways, can see how wrong this is. Even I am not yet so far removed from reality that I cannot cry over our loss of the family we never began, even if I only may dare to do that in the darkest part of the night.  
  
You have found me now- Kankuro. I knew you would come, and had I cared to pull myself out of my inner monologue, I would have noticed your approach. Your costume stands out even among those of the other ninjas, and your footfall is heavy for one trained so thoroughly in ninjitsu. You stare at me for only a moment before you shake your head in reprimand. The movement is so slight that had I not been looking for it, I would never have taken notice of it. But for you, the master of all disguises, it is more than an imperceptible motion- it is a break from your masks into your real feelings, no matter how short the break. I recognize that there is an emotion somewhere behind it, but I am completely unable to place it; I have seen you too seldomly without any barriers to know your moods so well. Is it anger that I have done something so stupid as to allow my concentration to falter for an instant? Is it annoyance at your relation to such a fool? Do I disgrace you as much as I know I have disgraced Gaara?  
  
I do not know your heart in the least, but somehow, when I look into those cold, empty pits that you call eyes, I know that I will be having a talk with Gaara later... a very long talk that just may end with my permanent exclusion from this so-called "team." Because you see, I made a mistake. And that is not allowed.  
  
For some reason, I feel slight anxiety. I already know what the consequences of my involuntary actions may be, but still I quiver. I have to fish around in my mind for a moment for the answer. After all, Gaara, you are my team leader, are you not? Am I not supposed to look up to you and be supported by you always?  
  
Oh... that's right. I had almost forgotten.  
  
You don't care either. 


End file.
